Today will probably (hopefully!) set the record for the longest day of waking hours on the trip.
The alarm sounded at 00:45 in Erbil, Iraq. Andrew and I will confess to not getting to bed early enough the night before to fully appreciate the charms of experiencing Kurdistan at 1:30 am in the morning as we drove to the airport in one of the taxis that has exclusive rights to drive all the way to the perimeter fence. We joined the long line to clear security for the first time (bags through x-rays, off with belts, shoes, watches, taking out phones, laptops, etc, followed by a physical body pat-down), and having entered the airport perimeter, took a vehicle to the now-familiar Departures Terminal, where we went through security for a second time (same routine...).
We checked in, cleared immigration, and then went through a third security check (the same again, off with belts, shoes, watches, taking out phones, laptops, etc, followed by the physical body pat-down), and waited in the holding area. The good news was that Andrew’s baggage had been found, and it was on our incoming flight into Erbil from who-knows-where. The airline’s branch manager assured us that he would personally re-tag the bag back to Amman and on to Tel Aviv (our final destination for today).
With that surprising reassurance, we boarded our flight, which took off a little ahead of schedule at 4:10 am and landed in Amman at 5:35 am. We had a fairly quick transit in Amman, but there was time to meet with Di who had just flown in from Hong Kong, so we were able to go to the gate together for our onward connection to Tel Aviv.
Like Andrew, Di hates getting on planes early (I am the opposite), and this time their wish came true as we arrived at the gate (with a few other passengers) after the plane had been loaded and the gates had been locked. After a wait that seemed much longer than it was, the doors were opened and the stragglers were allowed on board, perversely affirming to Di and Andrew that we may have actually arrived at the gate earlier than we had needed.
Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion International Terminal was unlike anything we had seen in our travels in the Middle East – vast, modern, clean, efficient, light, airy, and a genuinely interesting architectural design. I had expected some difficulties for both Andrew and me entering Israel as we had passport stamps from Syria, Lebanon and Yemen, all of which have colder than frosty relations with Israel. Sure enough, we were questioned at length on why we had visited those countries, and why we wanted to visit Israel. After quite a while, I was allowed entry but they decided to detain Andrew for further questioning. Naturally I stayed with him, and we were led away to a holding area. However, it came to nothing, and after waiting there a few minutes, an officer returned Andrew’s passport to him with the same loose-leaf entry stamp that I had already received.
As three of us would be travelling for the next week in Israel, we decided that the cheapest and most flexible option would be to get a rental car. The drive form the airport into Tel Aviv was very slow because of Sunday traffic congestion (Sunday being the first day of the working week in Israel), but for Andrew and me the amazing thing was how orderly the traffic seemed – cars stayed in their lanes, there was no incessant horn honking, drivers used indicator lights before turning, the roads were smooth and well maintained, and so on. For Di, on the other hand, the traffic seemed chaotic and she kept jumping to hold on to something. I don’t think she would have coped well with our recent driving experience in Lebanon, which was more akin to a badly designed arcade game that had the capability of suddenly generating its own new original hazards and life-threatening dangers.
If Kurdistan is “the other Iraq”, then Israel is “the other Middle East”. Not only different from its neighbours politically and culturally, Israel is clearly significantly more economically developed than its neighbouring countries. Beirut may have been like the West grafted onto the Middle East, but Tel Aviv seemed to BE the West with a few of its own idiosyncratic anomalies. Admittedly I am describing Tel Aviv, which is far from typical of Israel as a whole, and is described in my guidebook as “a universe away from Jerusalem, secular, party-city Tel Aviv is many things that Jerusalem is not: easy, breezy, sometimes garishly ugly, and open for business 24/7... it’s a city of diners, drinkers and dog owners.....”
Even a casual glance on the streets revealed Tel Aviv to be very different to anywhere we had visited in the preceding few weeks. The brevity of the women’s clothing was astonishing after Syria and Iraq, and having become accustomed to more ‘widespread’ styles of Middle Eastern clothing, it was easy to see why Israel’s more conservative neighbours would be (and are) shocked at the way Israeli women (at least in Tel Aviv) reveal their shoulders, legs and cleavage, considering this as very demeaning behaviour.
As Di and Andrew were both very tired from their travels, we took things fairly easy today. After finding and checking into our hotel (which is apparently Tel Aviv’s only feng shui hotel), we went out for a late (midday) breakfast before setting out by bus to the northern end of Tel Aviv to visit the Diaspora Museum. Located in the grounds of Tel Aviv University, the museum provided an excellent introduction to Jewish customs, beliefs, rituals and practices, as well as a very good display tracing the history of Jewish culture in exile.
A central feature of the Museum was an abstract hanging tower that spanned several floors in memory of Jewish people that had suffered under persecution in various places around the world, notably of course during the Holocaust in 20th century Europe.
A bus trip returned us to our hotel at about 5:30 pm, but by 6 pm all three of us were feeling somewhat drowsy and without realising it we drifted off into much needed naps. I woke at about 8:15 pm with the sudden realisation that I had not written my travel diary for the day (!), but my stirring also disturbed the others. We decided to go out and have a late supper, which we did at a splendid little restaurant overlooking the beach called McDonalds.
On our way back to the hotel, we saw a large crowd gathered on the beach watching large screens, and remembered that the final of the FIFA World Cup was currently underway. I guess we will all know in just a little while whether Paul the Psychic Octopus’ prediction of a Spanish victory will come to pass.
